bloodstream
by ShadowsTakeAll
Summary: "You're not Stiles," she says, an accusation not a question, because she already knows. She can see it in his eyes. (or: the nogitsune kidnaps Lydia and the pack tries to save her.)
1. at the club

**Hi all. Long story short I have a lot of feels and a lot of plot bunnies, so here's the result of that. It's going to be short, only a few chapters, depending on how much interest there is. It's set somewhere in 3B, but nobody's died and let's just assume that after Stiles and the nogitsune split, the latter just disappeared. And here's where we are. Usual disclaimer: this is dark. Character death is always a possibility, so be aware of that. I like playing around with writing styles so this may seem a little weird at first but bear with me.**

**Reviews make me really happy, so if you feel the urge to click the Follow/Fav button, please take a second to also hit Review and let me know what you think.**

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_"You're not Stiles."  
__"Oh, no. Stiles is long gone, sweetheart."_

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_

The music is a nice change.

Lydia has become so accustomed to the reverberations in her head, echoes of death and lingering screams, that the meaningless beat pulsing against her skull is somewhat of a comfort. She knows they should be out looking for the nogitsune, especially now that it's walking around wearing Stiles' skin, but for now they allow themselves this brief moment of release.

Her eyes roam around the club, taking everyone in, doing a mental check to make sure everyone is still here. (Part of her is convinced that if she looks away for a second one of them will be gone.) Scott and Kira, over by the punch bowl. Isaac and Allison, dancing near the middle of the floor. Ethan and Aiden talking quietly by the door.

And Stiles, walking toward her.

He hitches a clumsy smile on his face as he weaves through the crowd, his eyes fixed on her and a drink in his hand. A girl bumps into him and Lydia sees some of the liquid splash over the top of the cup, but his smile never wavers. He reaches her.

"Hey," and his smile tilts up at the edges.

"Hi," and her eyes are shining.

He holds the cup out to her and she takes it, and for a few minutes they say nothing. This isn't the place for talking about the big things; it's a place for noticing the little things. The feeling of his hand brushing against hers. The light dancing over his skin, like he's lit from within. The threads of music swirling between them, tying them together, anchoring them to this moment.

"Having a good night?" he asks, and she nods, and his smile takes up his whole face as he meets her eyes.

(She has to pinch herself to be sure this is real because nobody's ever looked at her like that before.)

Lydia sips her drink and slips her free hand into Stiles'. It fits perfectly. She looks around again, checking. Scott, Kira. Allison, Isaac. Ethan, Aiden. Then she turns back to Stiles, and he squeezes her hand.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

She shakes her head no. "I'm enjoying the music," she says, but that's only part of it. It's not even the main part of it. In this one room are a hundred people she's never met and doesn't care about, and then there's a handful of people who mean the world to her. She wishes every night could be like this, every moment so bittersweet, because even though she's here with Stiles she knows there's something out there plotting their downfall.

(She had asked Scott if he thought they could win against the nogitsune and he had told her that they would, but she read the words swimming in his eyes and knew he was lying.)

"You look beautiful tonight," Stiles says, and she finishes off her drink and tosses the cup aside.

"Let's dance," she says, and Stiles wraps his arms around her.

She takes a step forward, and then she freezes. Blood to ice, heart to stone; she can't move. Something cold and sharp is pressing against her back, right where Stiles' hand is. She tries to step back but he pulls her in close, his words a whisper against her ear.

"Go along with it and they don't get hurt," and then he pulls away, his smile wicked and his eyes aglow with something that Stiles, the real Stiles, could never be capable of.

"You're not Stiles," she says, an accusation not a question, because she already knows. She can see it in his eyes.

"Oh, no. Stiles is long gone, sweetheart." One hand is wrapped around her wrist and the other is still pressing the knife up against her back. (For a second she thinks of throwing herself backward with enough force to drive the knife into her back, but she knows that wouldn't kill her and it wouldn't save her friends.)

"What do you want?" she asks. The music pulses on, filling her veins and emptying her heart, and she curses herself for ever coming here.

"I want you to come with me," he says simply. "Come with me now and I leave your friends alone."

The knife slides up her back, like the demon in front of her is playing with her, tracing a pattern on her skin. Then it digs in, just a little, and a whimper of pain escapes from between her teeth.

"Shh," the creature says, pulling her in and kissing the top of her head, "it's okay, it's going to be okay."

It sounds like Stiles and for a second she lets herself believe that it is. "I'm not scared," but she is, and he knows it.

And he enjoys it.

The knife digs in again, harder this time, and a trickle of blood flows down her back.

"Let's go," he says, a command not an invitation.

Her feet are moving before she's aware she's made a decision. The creature in Stiles' skin holds her hand tightly, the knife hidden underneath his belt, his intentions hidden in the guise of a person so pure nobody would ever question him. They pass by Allison and Isaac, and Lydia keeps her head down, keeps them safe.

They reach the back of the club, slip out through the door, and nobody questions it. He leads her to his Jeep, sitting there like a faithful hound, and he pushes her into the passenger seat. And that's when the dizziness hits.

Wave after wave, taking over, until all she can see is black. She feels sick. She feels trapped. She feels like she's going to die.

"By the way," she hears Stiles' voice say, "the drink I gave you was spiked. Tranquilizers. They'll wear off in an hour."

An hour. They could be out of Beacon Hills by then. He could have taken her anywhere, done anything with her. Nobody knows she's gone.

She swims her way back to consciousness, just for a moment, long enough to look at him.

(She has to pinch herself to be sure this is real because nobody's ever looked at her like that before.)

His eyes are black and she falls into them, and her eyes close and she knows it's over.

Lydia Martin is about to die, and in some strange way she's okay with that.

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**So there you go. Please review, and I hope to see you all next chapter!**


	2. at the warehouse I

**Hey everyone, and thanks for the reviews. Glad to see people are interested. Word of warning: I like cliffhangers. A lot. But also: I pre-write so I can update fairly frequently. So follow/fave/review and let me know you're liking it, and I hope to see you all soon.**

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_"Why did you bring me here?"_  
_"We're going to play a game, Lydia."_

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To her surprise, she's not dead.

She knows this because of the pounding in her head and the aching in her shoulders and the coldness snaking up her spine. She opens her eyes slowly, not sure she wants to know where she is. Dim light washes over her, more shadows than illumination. She's in a warehouse, all cold steel and tall pillars and sharp angles.

"You're awake," and he steps out from the shadows, wearing her lover's skin but a devil's smile.

"Why did you bring me here?" and she looks down and realizes that she's tied to a chair.

She tries not to scream even though she can feel it building, and she tries not to look at him even though he crouches down in front of her. He tilts her chip up so that she's forced to look him in the eyes.

"We're going to play a game, Lydia," he says, and he stands up and shoots her a smile and walks over to the corner.

While Lydia struggles against the ropes holding her to the chair, the thing in Stiles' body pulls out his cell and starts texting. (She thinks suddenly of her mother and wonders if she's worried yet.)

"You know, Lydia," he says her name like they're friends, "I like you."

He looks up and then he walks over, and Lydia shrinks back against the chair even though she knows it will do her no good. She's trapped, she's stuck, and some part of her can sense that this is the end.

"And Stiles," he says, with a low whistle, "well, he loves you."

She knows this, but it still makes her heart skip a beat. (She remembers when she first realized how he felt, and the warm glow it had given her, and how she hadn't told anyone that she knew because it was more fun to play pretend.) She turns her head away, not looking at him, but she can't block out the sound of his voice.

"And you love him too, even if you won't let yourself admit it," and he walks forward again, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Suppressing a shiver, she looks down at her lap and tries not to cry. "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to play," he says again. "We've got a bit of time until the other players arrive, though, so we may as well have a little heart-to-heart."

"Other players?" she asks, but he doesn't answer.

"Have you ever held a human heart?" he asks, and he holds his hands up as if he's imagining it. "They're quite heavy, really, which explains why people always going around looking like they've got the weight of the world inside them. But some people," and he lowers his hands, "really do have the weight of the world. Or the underworld, to be precise."

She knows where this is going but she can't stop it. (Some part of her doesn't want to because she knows she deserves it.) He starts walking again, up and down in front of her. Unhurried, unconcerned.

"The wailing woman," he muses, "the banshee of Beacon Hills. How does that feel, Lydia?"

He glances at her and she looks away, terror making her stubborn and anger making her silent. Given the chance she would wrap her hands around his throat, even though he looks like Stiles, looks like the one person who would never hurt her. And right now she wants to hurt him, hurt the thing that took his face and is about to take her life.

"Nothing to say, hm?" and he keeps walking, up and down, his shoes scuffing on the metal floor, scraping against the sides of Lydia's head. "You've screamed before, for people you've never met. You screamed for them, and you cried, and now here you are." He looks at her, makes sure she's looking at him, and he asks, "How would it feel to scream for someone you do know?"

Her heart falls to the floor and he steps over it as he keeps pacing, amused by the alarm in her eyes. Scott, Kira. Allison, Isaac. Ethan, Aiden. Even Stiles. He could go after any one of them, and she can't stop it. (In her mind she begs the universe to stop the pack from finding her, but she doesn't say it aloud because she's not quite that brave, not yet.)

"Exactly," he says, like she did say it out loud. "I could go after any of them, and you can't do a thing to stop it. How does that make you feel, Lydia? Knowing I can kill any of them with just a nod of my head."

And then he does nod his head and Lydia bites her lip so hard it draws blood, but there's no burst of pain or blinding lights. There's just footsteps from behind her and the sound of something being dragged across the floor.

Something slumps to the ground in front of her, an Oni standing in front of it, and Lydia has to blink back tears to be able to make out the shape of Stiles on the floor, unconscious, potentially dead.

A scream dies in her throat and she forces herself to look at the nogitsune. "Leave him alone. You can have me, but let Stiles go."

Her voice shakes and it makes him laugh. "This isn't an 'either or' situation, Lydia. I can keep both of you."

Anger gives way to despair and a few tears spill onto her cheeks. "If you're going to kill me, why don't you just do it?"

This makes him laugh even more. "Because I'm not going to kill you," and with a wink, "Scott is."

The world falls away and Lydia stares at him in horror.

(In her mind she begs the universe to let the pack find her, but she doesn't say it aloud because she's not quite that cowardly, not yet.)

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**Thoughts, theories? Don't forget to review!**


	3. at the warehouse II

**Hi all, and thanks for the reviews. Here's the next chapter. If you like it and want to see more, review and let me know. If I get another five reviews on this story, I'll update right away; failing that I'll update probably on Tuesday, or possibly Thursday. We'll see. So yeah. Enjoy, review, see you next time.**

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_"You're going to die."  
__"I'm taking you with me."_

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She's figured it out.

The method. The mechanism. It's simple enough, and she should have figured it out earlier. There's a trip wire by the door, rigged up to a makeshift bow.

She can see the arrow glinting in the harsh artificial light.

The second anyone steps through that door, it's going to come flying straight toward her. She can work out the rough trajectory, and she figures the arrow will hit her in the chest, or maybe the stomach. She's not sure which would be better.

Lydia focuses her attention on Stiles, still unconscious by her feet. He hasn't stirred, and the Oni who dragged him there has departed. So the nogitsune doesn't see him as a threat.

It's not surprising that the Oni are working for the nogitsune. Lydia knows she should be surprised, but somehow it had seemed inevitable. (Her death is inevitable too, and this at least is mildly surprising.)

"You _are_ the smart one," the nogitsune says appreciatively. "I can see why he likes you."

(But she's not smart. If she were, she would be able to get out of this.)

"Let him go," she says again, her eyes still fixed on the figure on the floor. "Let. Him. Go."

"You're a fighter," and he walks over to her again, stepping over the real Stiles so that he's right in front of her. "I like that."

"Get away from me," and she shrinks back against the chair, but she knows it won't help.

"Do you think your friends know you're missing?" he asks casually, even flicking a bit of dust off his shirt.

She watches the speck of dust swirl in the air before it plummets to the ground. Soundless, meaningless. "They know," and she raises her eyes to look at him. "They'll find me. And they'll stop you."

"You and your pack," he says, walking around behind her, "you're all so full of it. You make these speeches about honor and duty and courage and loyalty, and what are you? You're just kids, Lydia. You're nothing more than a bunch of self-righteous, over-zealous, dim-witted kids with too much time on their hands. And you're trying to save the world. Doesn't that strike you as a little bit ridiculous?"

(It does, but she won't admit it. This is the lot they were given, and they have to do their best with it. If they don't save the world, who will?)

"What are you going to do?" she asks instead, and if he notices her clumsy change of topic, he doesn't say anything.

"You already worked it out," and he stands behind her, resting a hand on either shoulder. "When Scott comes to save you, he'll trip the wire. Release the arrow. Watch helplessly as it plunges into your heart."

She's missing something. She can tell by his vicious smile that there's more to the story, but she doesn't understand what it is. She doesn't know if she wants to understand.

But he wants her to.

"The arrow," he says, gesturing up to where it blinks malevolently at them, "is one of Allison's designs. Silver. Strong. Sturdy. Enough to pierce flesh and shatter bone. Possibly enough to kill an Oni; easily enough to kill a banshee."

There it is. That's the killer detail. He's set it up so that her two best friends will kill her. The ultimate trick, something that will cause more pain and strife and chaos than her friends will be able to handle.

Lydia takes a deep breath, swallowing a scream that's building up in her throat. There are whispers in the air, dancing across her mind, but she forces herself not to listen. She has the feeling someone's about to die, but as always she'll be too late. She won't know until they're dead. That's how it always is.

"Stiles should be waking up soon," the nogitsune says conversationally, still with a hand on her shoulders, holding her back against the chair, digging his nails in just a little bit. "He was a hard one to subdue, I'll give you that. You should've seen his face when I told him that I'd already taken you. What's that expression? 'Pale as a ghost'? I think it's quite fitting, don't you?"

She doesn't answer, but in her mind she curses him, wishes all sorts of horrible fates to fall upon him, and out loud all she says is, "My pack will find me. They'll find us, and they'll save us."

He bends down behind her and whispers into her ear. "How?"

She doesn't have an answer, but she doesn't need one. At that moment there's a low moan, a twitch, a gradual awakening and then Stiles is pushing himself up off the floor, wincing with pain as he props himself up.

"Oh god," and he tries to stand up to go to Lydia, his eyes not leaving her face, but he thinks better of it as he notices who else is in the room.

"It's okay," she says quickly, knowing neither of them believe it. "We'll get out of this. Scott will save us."

Stiles wants to believe her, she can see that, but he's weighing the odds in his mind and she knows they've reached the same unthinkable conclusion.

"Scott may not be able to save you," and the demon walks around and drags Stiles up by his collar, so that the two likenesses are face to face, "but he's going to try. And that's exactly what I want."

Without another word the demon plunges a knife into Stiles' stomach, and Lydia doesn't know who's screaming more – her or Stiles – and everything turns dark and Lydia feels like she can't breathe.

(In that split second she wishes that it had been her instead of Stiles and wonders if she would have taken the hit if she could.)

Her scream dies away and she realizes what's happened. Stiles slumps to the floor again, his hands over his stomach and his face twisted in pain, and she knows why the demon made her scream. Scott will hear; Scott will come. He'll come to save them and end up dooming them all.

"You're going to die," says the demon carelessly, pushing Stiles aside with his foot.

"I'm taking you with me," she snarls in response, but her broken voice does nothing to intimidate. She can still feel the scream tingling in her blood, can still see spots in front of her eyes, and then all she can see is Stiles.

It doesn't take long, maybe five minutes, just long enough for Lydia to get her breath back. Then there's a creak as the door starts to swing open.

Stiles stares up at her, his eyes wide and a single tear trickling down his cheek.

He's figured it out.

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**Just a heads-up: next chapter gets very dark very quickly. This story is not for the faint of heart, so if you're not sure you're up to it, back out now.**

**But to you brave souls who are still interested: welcome, thank you, and be prepared.**


	4. at the warehouse III

**Oh my god. Can I get that kind of reaction every chapter? That was incredible. Let's see how much interest I can get: if you guys get me to 25 reviews, I'll update immediately. If not, next chapter will be up on Tuesday or Thursday. Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed, and shoutouts to missIF and Iwannabelikeme for reviewing the last couple of chapters; I love regular reviewers, so much so that sometimes I may be inclined to give them a little something extra, like a preview of the next chapter or an answer to a question they have. So get reviewing guys, and I'll see you soon!**

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_"You can't save her, and you can't kill me."  
__"We can." / "We will."_

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Everything happens so quickly.

(She tells herself she's not scared but in truth she's never been so terrified.)

She starts to call out, to fling a warning into the space between them, but the demon slaps a piece of duct tape across her mouth and her only weapon is gone. She struggles but it's no use, and Stiles tries to shout but the demon just holds a knife to Lydia's throat and that's the end of that.

There's nothing to do but wait, for a second that feels like a lifetime.

The door slowly opens. Lydia is crying now, although she's trying her hardest not to, and even though she doesn't feel like screaming she knows that someone is going to die. There's no way out of this, not for her, not for any of them. (She prays that the pack will save her, because she's cowardly and she knows it.)

A flash of movement. A cry of surprise. A glint of silver.

Lydia closes her eyes, closes them tight, and prays to any deity that will listen.

None do.

There's a wail and a howl and neither of them are her, and Lydia slowly opens her eyes, just a slit, and she can barely understand what's happening. The door is open, like a spilled secret, and the arrow has been launched. Scott is standing in front of her, his eyes glowing red and his mouth hanging wide, and she doesn't understand.

Then she sees.

Stiles is almost on top of her. She had barely felt his weight, had thought it was simply a rush of air, but now she sees that he'd thrown himself in front of the arrow. There's blood, the smell of it making her sick, but she can't see.

Then she does.

There's a hole straight through Stiles' left hand. She can picture it: flinging it out to protect her, to stop the path of the arrow. He's sprawled against her now, breathing hard, blood seeping from his stomach and his hand.

They realize it at the same time: the arrow isn't in his hand.

With a dim kind of horror Lydia looks down, sees the arrow sticking out of her chest like a banner. Strange; she hadn't felt it go in. But now Stiles hauls himself to his feet and pain slices through Lydia's chest, jarring her heart, freezing her mind. She's been shot. She's been shot and she can't breathe and it feels like she's dying.

"Lydia!" Scott cries at last, breaking the spell, and suddenly the world comes rushing back and it brings pain and light and sounds of chaos.

"Lydia," Stiles echoes, a broken murmur as he stumbles to his feet. Blood drips from his hand onto the floor, a steady rhythm like her heartbeat used to be, but it stays strong where her heartbeat fails.

Her body is shutting down; she can feel it. She can taste death on her tongue and feel it in her lungs and she almost wishes for it. (She knows this is cowardly but she tries to tell herself that her death will give Stiles and Scott a reason to keep fighting, and that's why she has to die. It's more comforting than the thought of dying without a cause, without a reason, without redemption.)

She tries to tell them she's okay but she can't speak, so she just closes her eyes again and tries not to breathe. With every breath she feels the arrow dig in deeper until she swears it will break her heart.

The demon is still behind her, and now it walks around and Stiles and Scott back up quick, and the demon stands between them like a guardian. She's not dead yet and she knows that messed up his plan, but they both know she doesn't have long.

(She tells herself she's not scared but in truth she's scared of dying, and she knows that's strange because she's a banshee and she should be used to death by now.)

"You're too late, Scott," and the demon walks toward them, and they keep backing up, "you can't save her, and you can't kill me."

"We can," Scott says.

"We will," Stiles adds.

But they can't, and some part of them knows it. Pain blossoms from Lydia's chest until she's breathing it in, until she's drowning, until the world becomes pain and she can't remember a time when she wasn't in agony.

A shout. A creak. A rush of footsteps.

Lydia opens her eyes and almost faints with relief. Scott and Stiles still stand there, even though Stiles has to hold a bleeding hand over his bleeding stomach and Scott can't tear his eyes away from the sight of the bleeding banshee in the chair. And on either side of them are more people. Allison, Kira, Isaac, Aiden, Ethan. The pack is here.

"Get the hell away from her," Aiden spits, his words like gravel at the feet of a monster who could kill him with a nod of the head.

And he does. Or at least he tries.

Before the others can work out what's happening, the Oni materialize from the shadows and march forward, swords drawn and eyes glimmering, and the pack gets ready to fight. Aiden, Ethan, Isaac – claws and fangs. Kira – sword. Allison – bow.

And Lydia just sits there bleeding out, knowing that she failed them. If they die, it's her fault; and she'll never be able to redeem herself because she's going to die too. (Selfishly she hopes she's going to die first, because she's not strong enough to watch them go.)

The battle begins and Lydia can't keep track, doesn't even try. The pain is like a flower now, unfurling and spreading tendrils through her blood and skin, a feeling that's soft and almost comfortable now.

There's the clashing of metal on metal, howls of wolves in pain and anger, the whizz of arrows. When Lydia opens her eyes again she sees Allison and Stiles in front of her, working to untie the knots that bind her to the chair.

"You're going to be all right," Allison promises, ripping off the duct tape.

Lydia spits out blood, gasping for breath even though every single one is agony.

"We'll get you out of here," Stiles swears, and he helps pull her to her feet.

She sways, stumbles, but between Allison and Stiles they manage to get her to the door. They pause, waiting, and Scott looks at them. "Go!" and he turns back to the fight.

The three of them hurry through the door. The nogitsune is nowhere to be seen. The exit of the warehouse is right up ahead.

Lydia sees it, lets out a slow sigh, and then she blacks out.

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**Um, anyone still with me or did I emotionally scar you all so much you're not coming back?**


	5. in the car

**... wow. Gotta say I wasn't expecting to get so many reviews so quickly, so thank you so much. Here's the next chapter; you've earned it. So, same deal, higher stakes: get me 10 reviews on this chapter and you'll get an update, or wait a couple days and you'll get one anyway. (Also, FYI, I love capitals and hashtags in reviews, so go nuts.)**

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_"What happened?"  
__"The nogitsune found us."_

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Someone snaps the arrow, and someone else snaps her heart.

She's in the back of a car, her head on one person's lap and her legs on another, and somebody has pulled the arrow out and she wanted to tell them that it was a bad idea but she couldn't speak. And now Stiles is begging, "Don't die Lydia, don't die," and Allison is crying, and Lydia can't even tell if she's alive or not.

Her mouth is full of blood and her head is full of screaming. (She doesn't think she's actually screaming but she can never be quite sure.)

"Can't you go any faster?" Allison begs the driver, still pressing some kind of material to Lydia's chest, where the arrow used to be.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Scott replies, but they all feel the car speed up anyway.

She realizes that it's just the four of them in the car, and somehow that feels right. Scott driving; Allison near Lydia's feet; Stiles holding Lydia's head. Allison seems unhurt and Scott's just shaking, but Lydia can feel Stiles' heartbeat slowing down and she wonders how badly he's hurt. (He'd helped her back at the warehouse and she's worried he used up the last of his willpower and energy to do so.) She opens her mouth to ask but Allison tells her to be quiet, to save her strength.

(She wishes she had any strength to save, because then maybe she wouldn't have gotten shot and she wouldn't have gotten Stiles shot and nobody would have been at that goddamned warehouse.)

The car jerks and shudders and Lydia can feel that they're ten miles above the speed limit, but she thinks that they could be a hundred over it and they still wouldn't get there in time.

The pain has faded somewhat, a dull ache rather than a sharp jab, and she thinks she might be going into shock.

"Scott, she's losing a lot of blood," and Allison pushes the cloth in a little bit more, trying to stem the flow of blood, "we need to get her to a hospital."

"We can't go to the hospital," Scott says tersely.

"Stiles is hurt too," Allison reminds him, "I don't think he can last much longer without actual medical attention."

"We're not going to the hospital," and the car skids to a stop, and a door slams and there's the sound of footsteps.

Lydia's eyes are still closed, but she knows where they are. The one place Scott would take her, with the one person who might be able to help. Something's happening at the hospital, something bad, and walking in there would be like walking into a graveyard. The nogitsune is there, and he's winning.

She feels herself being lifted up and carried gently into the house, and Melissa McCall's startled voice breaks through her shock and causes her to open her eyes. Then they drift closed again and she lets the world spin around her. Voices wash over her and she lets herself drown in them.

"What happened?"

"The nogitsune found us."

"Lydia and Stiles got shot. With arrows – my arrows."

"Allison, it wasn't your -"

"Don't say it."

"Mom, can you help them?"

Then the voices fade and Lydia is being laid down on a couch. She doesn't try to keep track of everything, just lets it slide past her. She feels pressure on her chest, feels someone checking her pulse, feels a weight settling down near her feet. There's pain, a stinging pain that makes her whimper.

"Shh, Lydia, it's going to be okay," Melissa says as she keeps hurting her, and then the pain fades and so does the world.

Lydia wakes up screaming, but only in her mind. She can't make a sound, can't even find the energy to sit up. But she opens her eyes and looks around, taking stock of her surroundings.

She's at Scott's house, like she'd thought, and she can see Melissa standing in the next room, talking quietly on the phone. Lydia brings her attention back to the room she's in. She's lying on the couch, her chest bandaged up and a bottle of pills on the floor beside her. Allison is curled up near her feet, sleeping, but as soon as Lydia even twitches the other girl jerks awake.

"Mrs McCall!" and Allison shoots to her feet, signaling desperately, crouching down beside Lydia and checking her pulse. "Lydia, are you okay?"

"I got shot," she says, because it's the only thing she can think to say.

Melissa hurries into the room and quickly checks Lydia's condition. "You're surprisingly stable," she says, and then offers her one of the pills from the bottle. "Painkillers," she adds, and that's all Lydia needs to know.

The pain recedes and her head clears. She knows better than to move, even though she hates lying here like an invalid. "Stiles," her voice breaks on the word. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Allison says quickly, and the lie is almost convincing. "He's in Scott's room."

"I'm more worried about you," Melissa says gently, screwing the top back on the pill bottle. "You've lost a lot of blood, and I would be much more comfortable if we took you to -"

"Not the hospital," Lydia almost begs. (She knows it comes across as stoic but really she's just scared.) "We can't go there."

"So I've heard." Melissa straightens up again and gives Lydia a tender smile. "I'm going to go check on my other patient," and now she shifts her gaze to Allison, "will you two be all right?"

"We'll be fine," Allison says, and Melissa leaves.

Lydia nods, even though she knows they won't. Then the world fades again, and she's lost in blissful oblivion.

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**Don't forget to review if you want to see what happens next!**


	6. at the mccall house

**Well, damn. You guys are good. Thank you all so much for the reviews, you guys are beyond awesome. Now as Guest pointed out, there's a limited number of chapters to this story. And I don't want to get through it _too_ quickly (gotta build suspense somehow, right?), so let's push it even further: 13 reviews and an immediate update, or the next chapter will be up on Thursday. Off you go. ;)**

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_"I had to save you."  
__"By getting yourself killed?"_

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The pain comes in waves and leaves in a trickle.

Eventually it subsides enough for Lydia to be able to sit, propped up by cushions and covered with a blanket, because she's shivering even though she's not cold. (If she's honest she would almost rather the waves of pain because at least they stopped her from thinking.) Allison and Scott take turns sitting with her, and she knows that when they're not with her they're with Stiles.

No one will tell her how he is. (He was running on adrenalin back at the warehouse and she knows he must have crashed as soon as he got into the car, but she doesn't know how hard the crash was or how much of him was destroyed by it.)

Melissa comes to check on her a few times, changing the bandage and giving her more painkillers, and Lydia can only smile to let her know that she appreciates it. She tries not to think about what happened at the hospital, but she's there when Melissa gets the news. She hears the phone ringing before anyone calls; she knows the news before anyone speaks.

She listens to Melissa's side of the conversation.

"Yes, this is – what? Are you sure? How many? No, no, I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can. No, I – yes, of course. Yes. Right. I'll be there."

The phone settles back into the receiver with a gentle click, and Scott and Allison creep into the kitchen (they're trying not to wake Lydia, even though she knows she won't be able to sleep again) and talk to her. A minute later Lydia hears the car pull away from the house, and then there's silence.

And then there's talking, and that's even worse.

"Are you sure we'll be safe here?"

"Of course. Isaac and Kira are on their way."

"Where are Aiden and Ethan?"

"Out looking for the nogitsune."

Silence.

Then.

"Scott, I'm… I'm scared."

He doesn't answer, and after a minute or so they come back into the living room, where Lydia is still propped up on the couch. She tries to smile at them, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

"How are you?" and Allison pulls up a chair to sit beside her.

She ignores this. "How's Stiles?"

Scott looks away and then back at her, and that simple unconscious movement tells her more than his words could.

"I want to see him." Neither of them move. Lydia pushes herself more upright, and looks at Allison and Scott in turn. "Please. I have to see him."

The other two share a look, a silent conversation she can't hear. (It's strange for Lydia to not be able to hear something, because she's become so used to hearing screams and whispers and all sorts of unearthly noises in all sorts of unexpected places.) Then Scott dips his head, and he and Allison help Lydia to her feet.

It's a long walk to Scott's bedroom, but they make it. Lydia sinks into a chair beside the bed, breathing heavily, feeling like her chest is about to break open. But that all fades as she looks at the boy lying in the bed, a familiar boy who looks like a stranger. His face is pale, his hand is bandaged, his breathing is unsteady.

She holds a hand to her mouth, unable to reconcile this broken boy before her with the bright-eyed, ever-optimistic boy she'd grown to love. She reaches out a tentative hand, resting it on his uninjured one, and his eyes snap open.

"Hey guys," he says, and she realizes that this must be the first time he'd woken up since he's been here. "Did I miss anything?"

Lydia tries to sigh but it comes out as a relieved laugh. "You had us worried," and she squeezes his hand.

He squeezes back. "You're one to talk," he says, looking at her chest, and for a second she's confused and then she realizes that blood is soaking through the bandage, through her shirt.

"The important thing is that you're both alive," Allison says, pragmatic, even though emotion makes her voice tremble.

"But the nogitsune," Stiles says, trying to sit up. He decides against this and slumps back against the pillows, and Lydia tries to tell herself that she's not scared for him. (But she is.) "It's still out there?"

"Yeah," Scott mumbles, and Lydia expects a rallying speech about how they're the good guys and they're going to win, but it doesn't come.

Allison clears her throat, with a pointed look at Lydia and Stiles. Scott catches on. "We'll give you guys a minute," and he's already walking toward the door, "we'll be right outside, call us if you need."

And then they're alone.

Lydia starts to tell him that she's glad he's alive, but all she manages is a strangled sob. "You could have died," she says between sobs, and Stiles winces.

"I had to save you," he says, like Lydia has just said that force is equal to mass times the square root of pi.

"By killing yourself?" she says without thinking, and she sees Stiles bite back what could either be a laugh or a sob.

"Hey." He pulls his hand from hers and gestures to himself, falling back on his trademark humor. "See this? Not dead."

_Not yet_ she adds but she doesn't say it. Instead she crawls from the chair and into the bed, and Stiles slides over to give her more room. They lie side by side, his good arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest, both careful not to hurt the other.

It hurts more than Lydia would like to admit, and even though Scott comes in a few times and takes their pain, it doesn't help much.

She doesn't know how long she stays like this, but she wouldn't mind if it was forever. Stiles' heartbeat drowns out the whispers, and she feels safe with him, even if at the back of her mind is the image of the demon in his skin.

She knows they're going to have to defeat it, and soon, but for now she lets herself sleep.

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**Don't forget to review, and I'll see you all next time.**


	7. at the stilinski house

**Come on guys, what happened? You were doing so well with the reviews, and then they trailed off. So, same as last time: 13 reviews and an automatic update, if not it will be early next week. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I'm glad to see people are enjoying the story. So get reviewing, and I hope to see you all soon.**

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Two weeks pass in a daze, and finally Lydia starts to feel like herself again.

She spends a couple days at Scott's house, until Melissa declares that she's well enough to be able to go home. The others had made an executive decision to lie to her mother – as far as Mrs Martin is concerned, Lydia is suffering from nothing more severe than a persistent stomach flu.

A couple times, Melissa comes over to check on her. Lydia asks her what happened at the hospital, but Melissa just shakes her head sadly and says it's best she doesn't know. Allison and Scott come over every day after school and give her updates. (She uses the term lightly because in reality they don't tell her anything.)

Nobody mentions what happened at the warehouse, aside from the first day Scott comes to her house. Even then it's a short conversation, clipped, because neither of them want to relive that pain. Scott apologizes for not being able to stop the nogitsune; Lydia apologizes for being the reason they all ended up at the warehouse. They call it even and agree not to mention it.

Every time Allison or Scott show up, she asks about Stiles. The answers become more and more vague, until she's half-convinced that he died and they just don't know how to tell her.

"He's fine, Lydia. He just exhausted himself helping you that day, and he needs time to recover."

"He'll be okay, Lydia. My mom's checking up on him every day, and she says there's nothing to worry about."

"He's getting better. He's healing pretty quickly."

"He's doing better."

As soon as she's strong enough, she's going to go and see him. He nearly killed himself trying to save her, and she can't just ignore that. She's not sure what she'll say to him, but she knows they need to talk. (Sometimes she thinks that she should confess her love for him, but mostly she just needs to apologize. Maybe she should do both at once.)

For the next week, the pain fades enough that Lydia can devote some of her time to wishing that she wasn't a banshee. The screams both make her tired and keep her awake, and she can feel herself slipping away, slipping between sleep and waking with such seamless ease that she can't tell one state from the other.

The arrow, she realizes not long after that first horrible night, had not actually pierced her chest. It had been lower, almost exactly at the place where her ribs diverge, nestled snugly in between them until one of her friends had yanked it out in the car. (But she still feels like it hit her heart.)

Allison and Scott assure her that they're still looking for the nogitsune. He's gone, they say, and they don't know where. The pack is all looking for him, but there's been no sign of him. He's laying low, and that's more terrifying than waging all-out war.

Aiden comes to visit her once, but it's a short visit and they mostly spend it in silence. But she's glad he came.

Kira visits too, and Isaac once, but she doesn't really know how to talk to them. She still feels torn between the need to thank them and the desire to apologize for what she did – or rather, what she failed to do – and she knows they don't want to hear it. They feel sorry for her, but they don't blame her.

(She wishes they would because then she wouldn't have to spend so much time blaming herself.)

Finally, two weeks after she'd been shot, Lydia has recovered enough to be able to leave the house. Scott comes to pick her up and she rides shotgun with Allison in the back, and they talk about music the whole ride there. Aside from a couple of concerned glances, the other two give no indication that there's anything wrong. Lydia starts to feel less like an invalid and more like a member of the pack again.

The Sheriff lets them in, and he makes the mistake of asking if she's okay.

She pauses in the doorway, with Allison on one side and Scott on the other in case they need to support her, and gives the Sheriff a withering look. He withdraws the question immediately, and she wants to apologize and explain.

But she doesn't know how to explain that she feels a little bit weaker every time someone asks if she's okay, or that she dies a little more inside every time someone gets that _poor delicate flower _look that lets her know that they don't see her as the strong person she wants to be. (She doesn't blame them because she knows she's not strong.)

Stiles is sitting up in bed when they walk in, and his eyes light up when he sees them. But before he can even say a greeting, Scott's phone goes off. The buzzing breaks through the murmuring in Lydia's mind, and then a whisper shoots through that.

_I'm coming for you._

She knows what's happening. The voice is familiar in a spine-tingling, blood-chilling way. There's only one person who's ever been able to make her feel like this.

And yet it still comes as a surprise when Scott hangs up the phone and then announces, "They found the nogitsune."

What comes as even more of a surprise is the surge of anger that bubbles up in Lydia, followed by a declaration. "I'm coming with you."

"Me too," and Stiles is trying to sit up.

Scott looks at both of them and shakes his head. "You can't, it's too dangerous."

Stiles catches Lydia's eye and gives her half a smile. "Yeah, we wouldn't want to get hurt."

The frown that crosses Scott's face is enough to let them know that he doesn't appreciate the attempt at levity, but Lydia is glad that Stiles is still making jokes. It means he's not too far gone, it means they might still have a chance.

And she knows that they need to go with the others to defeat the nogitsune.

Determination comes in waves, and it doesn't leave.

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**Thoughts, theories, comments? Let me know in the reviews!**


	8. at the graveyard I

**Three reviews last chapter? You guys are hurting my feelings. Good news is, there's only a few more chapters left, so if you can stick with me you might be able to see it through to the end. And please don't forget to review, it's kind of disheartening to think that people are losing interest so quickly. So thank you to Sarah, Guest, and gossgal33 for taking the time to review last chapter, I really appreciate it. Remember that chapters take longer to write than the time it takes you to read AND review, so be kind and let me know if you're still reading. Enjoy the chapter...**

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_"__And if he gives himself up now, the rest of you can go."_

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She's not sure how she's still standing.

Scott had taken some of her pain, and Isaac had taken some from Stiles, which helped a little bit. And if she doesn't think about the wound on her chest, covered up by bandages and still throbbing every now and then, she can almost convince herself that she's okay.

Stiles is another matter. On the ride to the nogitsune, he doesn't say a word. He just holds her hand and stares out the window. (She wonders if he's scared to face her because he doesn't want her to see the pain in his eyes.) His wounds are also bandaged up, and he doesn't look like he's in pain, but she knows he must be.

When they reach their destination, disbelief nestles up to the fear in her heart, and all Lydia can do is look at Scott in horror. He turns back to face them both, gives a tight nod, and gets out of the car.

Lydia remembers saying once that she felt like she was standing in a graveyard. She's felt like that for days, and now it's actually true. They're at the graveyard. Of course they are. (She hasn't been to one since her powers were awakened because she doesn't want to hear the screams of everyone from beneath the earth.)

"You okay?" Allison is asking her, holding the door open.

"Fine," and Lydia steps from the car as if to prove her point, and to her relief nobody else notices that her legs are shaking.

She's still not entirely sure how they managed to convince Scott to let them come along. She's hurt, Stiles is even more injured, and neither of them will be any good in a fight. (Part of her realizes that she's never good in a fight, she's always the one to find the dead bodies not the person to defeat the monster.)

They've done a lot of healing in two weeks, but they can all tell that Lydia and Stiles aren't healed yet. Lydia tries to keep her face blank but she knows she can't stop the pain shining in her eyes, and Stiles has to lean on her to be able to walk. She automatically stoops down to let him sling his arm across her shoulders, and they walk like that across the graveyard. The warmth of his body even makes a feeble attempt to chase away the chill of the night.

Scott and Allison lead the way, with Kira and Isaac a couple steps behind. Ethan and Aiden are bringing up the rear, and Lydia knows that Mr Argent and Derek are on standby not far away. And if both lines of defense fail, the Sheriff knows where they are and he'll have to take over.

The strange thing is, the graveyard is silent.

With each step Lydia remembers where she is, but she can't hear a thing. Her footsteps are muffled by the dew-wet grass beneath her feet, and there's not a whisper or a murmur in her mind. She doesn't understand, because her mind should be in chaos. But maybe this really is a place of peace. People are buried here, but they didn't die here; maybe that's a critical difference.

(The thought flashes through her mind that any of them could die here tonight and be buried here by the end of the week.)

The ragged little group gathers in what feels like the center of the graveyard, by an angel-shaped monument that seems to be in memorial of one of the founders of the town. Lydia sticks close to Stiles, leaning on him as much as he's leaning on her, and she tries not to notice that it seems like the angel's eyes are following her movements.

She doesn't know who found out that the nogitsune is here, or how, but she knows without a doubt that he's here. He's here somewhere, he's watching them, and he's just waiting for the perfect time.

Now.

"I'm glad you came," and he steps out from behind the statue.

The pack tightens its ranks, closing in so that Lydia and Stiles are at the center and the others – the leaders, the soldiers – are surrounding them. The demon stops in front of them, leaning against the statue. His Oni flank him, hulking and menacing. Lydia swears one of them is looking right at her.

"This needs to end," says Scott, taking a step forward.

Allison steps forward too, and then Isaac; the first line of defense. Kira takes a step back, standing directly in front of Lydia and Stiles. The nogitsune smiles.

"We know how to stop you," Allison declares. "We can kill you."

The demon's smile widens, and Lydia looks away. (It's not Stiles and she knows that but it looks like him and that makes her skin crawl.) "By all means, go ahead. You're welcome to try."

Before Allison can even draw her bow she's on the ground. The arrow falls from her hand and is lost in the grass. Scott pulls her to her feet, glaring at the Oni that had knocked her down. (Hit her but not killed her, Lydia notices, which means the nogitsune has a plan that's more insidious than just outright mayhem.)

"Anyone else want to try?" and the demon spreads his arms wide, inviting an attack.

Isaac tries next, charging at him, but then he's slammed into the ground by the other Oni. Allison helps him up and the three of them stand their ground, even though Lydia can tell that they're terrified.

The demon turns his gaze toward Scott. "What kind of alpha lets his subordinates fight for him?"

Scott opens his mouth to defend his friends, to defend his position, but the demon just laughs.

"Hackles down," and the laughter stops, "it's not you I want."

The group follows his gaze and when Lydia reaches the end of it she wants to sink down into the earth. Stiles meets the demon's eyes, unflinching, but she can feel his hand trembling on her shoulder.

"I want Stiles," says the demon, walking forward. "And if he gives himself up now, the rest of you can go."

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**Anybody still with me? Sound off in the reviews.**


	9. at the graveyard II

**Well hot damn. That's what I'm talking about! Thank you all so, so much for your reviews, I am very much relieved to see that I haven't lost you all. I have a couple things to tell you guys, and then it's on with the chapter.**

**First: there are three-five chapters left of this story after this one (depending on how open-ended I want to leave it). Now, if you guys can somehow manage to get me to 100 reviews by the end of it, I have a special reward you may find interesting if you want to read more of my writing in the future.**

**Second: consider this fair warning - there will be a character death next chapter. Be prepared.  
**

**I think that's it. Thanks again, and don't forget to review.**

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_"I need to end this, now."  
__"Not like this."_

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"Don't do it," Lydia's voice is shaking but her resolve is firm. "Stiles, don't you even think about it."

"You can't give yourself up," Scott says, turning to face his oldest friend, "we'll find another way.

Stiles takes his hand from around Lydia's shoulders and lets it fall to his side. He shoves his hands in his pockets and squares his shoulders and tries to stare the demon down.

"No," and it's Allison this time, holding out her bow so that it separates Stiles from the demon. "You can't do this."

"I have to do this," and Stiles takes a step forward.

"No!" Lydia shoots forward, grabbing his arm, but he shrugs out of her grip. "Stiles, please don't do this. You can't -"

"I have to," he repeats, not looking at her, still looking at the demon.

(She wouldn't admit it but she would give anything for him to look at her right now.)

The nogitsune stays where he is, waiting for Stiles to come to him. A breeze picks up, playing with the grass and tugging at Lydia's hair, and she wraps her arms around herself. She feels Ethan and Aiden come up behind her, and she doesn't know if they're trying to comfort her or stop her from going after Stiles.

"Stop," and Scott's eyes are glowing red as he tries to catch his friend's eye.

Stiles keeps his head down and his eyes on the ground as he moves forward, trance-like, set on his goal. Lydia feels her heart slamming against her chest and she wouldn't be surprised if her wound was bleeding again. (It feels like her heart is bleeding and she has the horrible feeling that she's about to lose the man she loves.)

There's a sense of expectation in the air and the wind carries it to each of them, passing it around like a secret, until Lydia's whole body is tingling and she can tell everyone is on high alert. It's not just the Oni and the nogitsune and the fact that Stiles is ready to give himself up to save the rest of them. It's the fact that they all know there's no way they're all getting out of this alive.

A scream is drifting up through Lydia's throat, and she knows it won't burst out for a few minutes but that doesn't make her feel any better.

(One of them is going to die and even if it's not her she knows it's going to kill her.)

"Stiles, stop," she tries again, but he doesn't even look at her.

He only stops when he reaches the edge of the circle, and Scott and Allison and Isaac block off his route. Finally he looks up, meeting Scott's eyes.

"You said you'd do whatever it took to defeat this thing," Stiles says, "and this is what it takes. The only difference is that it's not _you_ who has to do it. It's me. And that's okay. I need to do it."

"We can find another way," Scott insists, and Kira walks up to him and joins in the barrier between Stiles and the demon.

"Let's just go back," Kira says, "we can work out something else."

Stiles' gaze drifts from one person to another, until it comes to a rest on Scott again. He shakes his head and with that one movement he seals his fate. "Let me through, Scott," and he moves toward them.

Kira and Isaac look like they might move out of the way, but Allison and Scott stand resolute. Stiles stops in his tracks, and Lydia, the banshee of Beacon Hills, finds her voice again.

"Stiles, come back here," and she finds herself walking toward him, even though Ethan and Aiden try to pull her back. "We can fight him, and we can win, just -"

"No," and he whirls around to face her. The wind picks up, slapping her in the face with his words, but she doesn't stop until she's standing in front of him. "I'm not going to let anyone else get hurt because of me, Lydia. I need to end this, now."

"Not like this," she pleads, reaching for his hand, but he pulls it back. (She finds herself remembering the night at the warehouse and how close to him she'd felt as they lay together on Scott's bed.)

"It's the only way," he says and he pushes through the protective wall until there's nothing between him and the nogitsune.

Nothing but a few short meters of grass.

Then.

The nogitsune crosses the space between them, grabs Stiles by the collar, and flings him to the ground. A shriek is torn from Lydia's throat as Stiles hits the ground with a dull thud and a moan that echoes in her mind. He stays where he fell, his hands over the injury in his stomach, the place where the nogitsune had stabbed him.

They all hear the nogitsune's words, even though he never speaks.

_You have to learn not to trust a fox. They're tricksters._

Lydia's hand drifts up and rests on the place where she'd been hit with the arrow. She closes her eyes and she's back in the warehouse and she can't breathe. Then she opens her eyes and she's still in the graveyard and she can't even stand.

She feels Allison's steadying hand on her arm and flashes her a grateful look, and then they both turn back to Stiles. The demon is standing over him, and the entire pack is holding their breath.

The wind dies down. Anticipation buzzes in the air. Fear jumps from heart to heart.

And then, slowly, Stiles drags himself to his feet. He stands facing the demon, the one with his face, and for a long moment neither of them say a thing.

"Well look at you," the demon says, "pathetic, pasty Stiles. Not much of a hero, are you?"

Stiles doesn't say anything, but his jaw tightens.

"Not much of a talker either," the demon goes on with a snicker, "that's all right. I can talk for the both of us. Or we can skip straight to the action."

The demon nods his head and the Oni move forward. Lydia's scream dies on her tongue and she watches in silence as all hell breaks loose.

And all the while, she can't shake the feeling that this is all her fault.

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**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you next time!**


	10. at the graveyard III

**Thanks for the reviews, guys. Before we get into the chapter, I have an announcement: I'm about a quarter of the way through writing a much longer, much darker fic. It's still going to focus on the Stiles/Nogitsune/Lydia issue, but Allison, Scott, and Isaac will play more of a role. I'm incredibly excited about this story, and if you guys get me to 100 reviews by the end of THIS story, I have something to offer you in regards to the other one. So get reviewing, because I really want to share this with you. Go back and review chapters you've missed, sign out and re-review chapters - I don't care, just do what you can to get me to that threshold. You're not going to want to miss this. Now that I've finished being self-serving and smug, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and aren't too devastated by the end of it. Here we go...**

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_"__You can't take him on yourself."  
__"__I'm the only one who can."_

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As far as disasters go, this is up there with the worst of them.

Stiles is on the ground again and Lydia can't get to him because there's too much going on. Allison's arrows are getting sliced in half, Kira's sword goes right through the Oni, and Isaac can't even get close enough to use his claws.

Aiden and Ethan are shouting at her, trying to persuade her to leave, but she can't. She has to make amends, even if it's the last thing she does. (Some part of her hopes it will be the last thing because she can't keep going like this.)

"Come on, Lydia," and Aiden is pulling her away, "we need to get you to a safe place."

"No," and she slips out of his grasp and darts forward, trying to get to Stiles.

"Lydia!" and this time it's Ethan holding her, arms wrapped around her, pulling her back. "The best thing you can do for Stiles is get yourself to safety."

"_No_." She jerks away from him and whirls around to face him. (She hopes she doesn't look as scared as she feels.) "Scott let me come, and I'm going to help. So let me _go_."

And she marches off.

She can hear them arguing behind her. Aiden is angry, Ethan is adamant.

"Just let her go," says the former.

"I can't. We have to protect her. She's part of the pack."

"And we're _not_. Scott is never going to accept us, and you know that."

"It's not going to stop me from trying."

"You're not a hero, Ethan, so stop acting like it."

Lydia hears footsteps but doesn't look back. She's almost reached Stiles. Something lunges for her and she ducks, but the Oni's sword is knocked out of the way by a carefully placed blow. Ethan smiles tightly at her, urging her to go on. He may not be a hero but he'll never stop acting like it.

She dips her head and goes on, reaching Stiles and dropping down into the wet grass beside him. He sits up and takes his hand in hers, and she has the horrible feeling he's saying goodbye. (She's not ready to say goodbye and she doesn't think she ever will be.)

"Come on," she says, slinging his arm around her neck and pulling him to his feet. He doesn't resist, but he's not leaning into her, not leaning _on_ her. He's different, distant, and she thinks it might be because he's about to do something foolish.

They withdraw, pressing against the angel statue, and try to work out how to help their friends. Their pack. Their last hope.

Scott and Isaac are taking on one of the Oni, taking turns to distract and attack.

Kira is tackling one herself, holding her own but not gaining any ground.

Aiden is slammed against one of the tombstones and slumps to the ground.

Ethan is rushing to help his brother.

Allison is nowhere to be seen.

Neither is the nogitsune.

"I have to find him," Stiles shrugs her off, looking around.

"The nogitsune?" and she's reaching for him. "You can't, Stiles. You can't take him on yourself."

He looks at her. (Her heart skips a beat.) He sighs. "I'm the only one who can."

Then.

A howl.

A wolf in pain.

Then nothing.

Lydia screams. Stiles swears. Scott breaks away from the Oni and races over to his fallen comrade. Aiden watches in horror. Ethan falls to the ground.

An Oni steps back, with an impassive and unimpressed look at the fallen werewolf, and now goes after Isaac. Scott turns back to the fight. Aiden rushes to his brother. (Lydia knows it's too late because her scream was like a death sentence for him.)

"Is he -" Stiles asks shakily.

Lydia nods. Aiden leans over his dying brother, and she catches the words he whispers.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he's saying, as Ethan struggles for breath, "you're a hero and you didn't need to die to prove it."

"I'm not proving anything," Ethan whispers, blood dribbling down his chin. "I died for a cause you'll all keep fighting for."

And then he's gone.

But the nogitsune's not.

He emerges from behind another statue. (Lydia wonders why there are so many statues in the cemetery.) One hand is raised in a mocking wave, and the other is wrapped around Allison's throat. The fighting stops at once.

All the air leaves Lydia's lungs. The dark graveyard suddenly feels like what it is – a battlefield. She can hear the whispers now, all the people who are resting here. (They're not resting peacefully and they won't shut up.) Everything is still, everything is quiet. As silent as the grave, except for the whispers in Lydia's head.

And the small, squeak-like sob that she can't hold back.

"Well," the nogitsune says, raising his eyebrows and lowering his hand, "looks like I've found the key to stopping you guys in your tracks."

"Let her go," Stiles says, stepping forward.

The nogitsune tilts his head and then turns his face toward Allison, looking like he's not sure whether he wants to strangle her or kiss her. He does neither, just runs a hand down the length of her face. "I'd rather not," he says calmly.

Lydia finds herself reaching for Stiles. Her hand wraps around his wrist and he feels cold. Almost dead. She shivers, but she doesn't let go. He doesn't look at her. (She wishes he would even though he'd be able to see how terrified she is.)

They're one soldier down, and they're about to lose another.

And they're no closer to defeating the monster before them.

"It's not her you want," Stiles says. "It's me."

"True." The nogitsune shrugs, and then shoves Allison away. She stumbles a few steps and then Scott swoops in and pulls her away. "Let's settle this then. Man to man."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "You're not a man."

The nogitsune laughs. "Neither are you."

The night holds its breath as Stiles and the nogitsune size each other up. And then everything explodes.

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**Don't forget to leave me a review, and I'll see you all soon!**


	11. at the end

**Hi all, and thanks for the reviews last chapter. Here is the penultimate chapter, where everyone's fates will be decided. And again, a reminder: get me to 100 reviews, and I'll give you a reward. Hint: that reward will involve being given a sneak peek of my upcoming story, 'scarlet'. So if you like what you're seeing and want to see more, review! I love hearing what you all think. So here we go.**

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They all know not to interfere.

This is Stiles' battle to fight, and they'd only be in the way. Even the Oni stop, standing to attention to watch. They know they're not in danger.

Lydia stumbles over to Allison and Scott, and they both reach out to support her. (The whispers are louder and she doesn't know if she's hearing them or saying them.) She closes her eyes and leans against Allison's shoulder and wishes this would end.

It's hard to tell what's going on. Stiles and the nogitsune hit head on and now they're fighting, slamming fists into faces and knees into guts, and Lydia can't tell who's winning. There's a horrible stillness in the graveyard, broken only by grunts and yelps.

And a horrible wailing. A keening. Mourning.

Aiden hasn't left Ethan's side, and Lydia can tell he's crying. She wants to comfort him, knows she should go to him, but she can't force her tired feet to move. The still-healing wound in her chest is throbbing. Her mind is racing.

Scott stiffens. "We should do something."

"What can we do?" Allison whispers back, still transfixed by the fight.

Kira and Isaac come to stand beside them, a pack united, but useless in the face of this deadly danger.

Isaac hums softly. "It looks like Stiles is winning," he says in surprise.

Kira blinks. "How can you tell?"

"The real Stiles is a lot clumsier," Isaac points out, and Lydia has to fight back a laugh. (Not because she doesn't want to laugh but because she doesn't want to be disrespectful.)

The real Stiles _is_ clumsier. He stumbles a few times, even ends up on the ground once or twice, but he always gets back up. (Lydia holds her breath when he's on the ground because she's scared this will be the time he's knocked down for good.) Everyone gathered there understands what's at stake. One of them has to kill the other. That's the only way it can end.

"Lydia," and Allison is squeezing her shoulder.

She blinks and looks at her.

"What are you doing?" Allison asks.

And Lydia realizes she's been whispering, echoing the voices in her head. Memories of death, pain, sadness. She thinks of the nogitsune's goals.

Chaos.

Strife.

Pain.

She shuts her mouth and shakes her head. Allison grits her teeth and doesn't speak again. They turn back to the fight. Lydia can feel the tension in the air like a physical force, prickling against her skin and making her shiver. She runs her hands up and down her arms, wishing she'd worn something more practical than this damn knee-high dress.

(She wishes she was something more practical than a banshee because she hasn't done them any good so far.)

A sob hitches in her throat.

"He's going to be okay," Allison says, wrapping her arms around the shivering banshee.

"What if he dies?" Lydia says, barely a whisper. The wind picks it up and carries it away, and she's not sure Allison heard. (She's not sure she even said the words because doing so would mean acknowledging her worst fear.)

The fight is coming to a close, and everyone can sense it. Expectation is heavy in the air, and guilt is heavy in Lydia's heart. If it hadn't been for her, Ethan might not have died. Stiles wouldn't be fighting for his life. None of this would be happening if they hadn't come to save her that night at the warehouse.

(She's not quite selfless enough to wish they hadn't.)

Everyone is expecting something big, but they're all caught off guard when it happens. There's a yell, a flash of light, and then there's only one Stiles. He's on his hands and knees on the ground, breathing hard, and it's Isaac who gives voice to the one thing they're all thinking.

"Is that… him?"

Kira takes a step forward, her sword hanging by her side. "It doesn't look like a nogitsune," she says hesitantly.

The Oni have vanished, which means the nogitsune either died or got what it wanted. Lydia leans against Allison, each breath like shards of ice as she frantically tries to remember what Stiles, the real Stiles, had been wearing.

The Stiles on the ground looks up at them, but doesn't stand up. (Even so, Lydia notices that Scott and Isaac both have their claws out, and Kira's grip tightens on her sword.) He looks tired, washed-out, but she can't tell if it's nogitsune darkness or residual tiredness that give his eyes that hollow look.

"Stiles?" and Scott takes a step forward, the sound echoing like it's bouncing off the tombstones.

(The voices of the dead have stopped except for one that stays in Lydia's head, one that speaks with Stiles' voice.)

Allison nudges Lydia. "You're his anchor," she reminds her. "Go."

Lydia's mind fills with memories of the sacrifice, of holding Stiles under the water, of being terrified he wasn't going to come back. (She thinks that he can't be dead now because surely she would have known, but what if it's another trick and the nogitsune is the one left behind?)

Scott steps back as Lydia approaches, an alpha giving way to a banshee, because they all know there's only one person who can tell for sure. She crouches in the grass (which is wet like tears, cold like ice, like the tub that she'd held Stiles in and watched him die in) and holds out a tentative hand, not quite ready to touch him.

Stiles' eyes have followed her movements and now he tilts his head and fixes his unnervingly piercing gaze on her. Then he shifts his position so that he's sitting in the grass beside her, his shoulders shaking and his breathing coming in ragged gasps. (It's either a trick or the most heartbreaking thing she's ever seen.)

"Stiles?" she asks.

"Lydia," he says.

She can hear the others behind her, asking if it's really him, and as soon as she looks at him, really looks at him, she knows it is.

She can see it in his eyes.

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**What's this? A happy ending? Don't worry, there's another chapter left. I really, really like the last chapter, and I hope you guys will too. So get reviewing, and I hope to see you all soon for the final chapter!**


	12. at the beginning

**I'm so excited to share this with you all, because I'm really happy with the way this turned out. But I'm also sad because this is the final chapter. I think you guys will like how everything turns out, though, so please enjoy. Now. I got 100 reviews last chapter (thanks to a certain Slytherin who finally got around to reading this), which means I have a little... shall we say, _trade, _to offer you. I'll add more in the end of this chapter, because I'm sure you're all eager to get reading. So read, enjoy, and _review_.**

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_"I love you so much."_  
_"I know."_

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The silence is a nice change.

The graveyard is no longer a battlefield but simply a resting place. Lydia knows the souls will be at peace one day. Not now, but maybe someday soon, and that's enough. She and Stiles share a look, a breath –

– a kiss.

She feels Stiles pull back and she realizes that _she_ kissed _him_. From the startled murmurs of the pack behind her, she knows they expected it to be the other way around. (She'd told Allison about the last time she'd kissed Stiles but she doesn't think the others know.) She remembers the last time she kissed Stiles, and how it had been to stop him from panicking.

This time she's the one close to panic.

When she pulls away Stiles blinks at her, and then presses a tentative finger to his lips like he's searching for traces of her, for some proof that she really did that. "Why did you do that?"

"I thought I was going to lose you." It's simple, it's sweet, and it's the truest thing she's ever said.

(His smile is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.)

The pack closes in then, all worry and hushed voices and cautious optimism.

"What happened?" Scott asks as he stands before them, a bloodstained alpha in all his glory.

And yet he wasn't the one who saved the day. The hero is the boy with the troubled eyes and the tender soul and the softest hands Lydia's ever felt. The hero is the one who started out as the victim.

Stiles searches through the grass and holds up a syringe. Empty. "Deaton gave it to me," and he tosses it aside again. (Scott carefully picks it up and crushes it so no more damage can be done.) "It was some kind of crazy potion that was supposed to stop the nogitsune. And I guess it worked."

"When did he give it to you?" Allison asks, starting to scour the ground for her lost arrows. She gathers them up and tucks them into the quiver, and then she looks back up at Stiles.

"Not long after…" He gestures to his stomach and holds up his hand, to indicate that awful night at the warehouse. "He said I was the only one who could use it. Some kind of nogitsune-host magic bonding thing."

Normally Lydia loves the details but for now she lets the explanation wash over her. (But she does notice the details of Stiles' face and she can't stop a smile from tugging at her lips as she watches his eyes soften when he looks at her.) The others nod and murmur and let the explanation sink in.

Lydia is still tripping on the realization.

She doesn't have feelings for Stiles.

She has one feeling.

A desperate longing, a tugging of the heartstrings, a red string that ties them together and makes it hurt when she's not near him. (It had damn near killed her when she thought she'd lost him.) She can't live without him and she needs him to know it.

He's in the middle of making a joke about how the nogitsune was no match for a bunch of high school kids. She cuts him off mid-sentence with a searing kiss. He doesn't seem to mind.

Scott clears his throat and wanders off to throw the syringe in the trash. Allison busies herself rearranging her arrows. Isaac and Kira turn away politely. Lydia never wants to let go, never wants to be away from him. By the way he's kissing her back, she's sure he feels the same.

They take longer to break apart this time, and even then they're still touching, hands linked, hearts intertwined, and she's pulling him to his feet.

"How did you know," he says softly as he leans against her, "how did you know that it was me and not the nogitsune?"

Lydia graces him with a smile, a look out of the corner of her eyes. "You think I can't tell the difference between the man I love and a mind-controlling, mass-murdering demon who looks like him?"

Stiles' step falters but he doesn't respond to the confession. (He probably knew before she did and for some reason that thought makes her smile even more.) As they walk the others fall into step around them. Scott up the front. Allison and Isaac behind. Kira bringing up the rear.

Scott breaks off to talk to Aiden, but he waves him away. The alpha does as instructed, knowing this is a family matter. He picks up the lead again as they head to the parking lot, away from the graveyard and all that it symbolizes.

Lydia doesn't look back, and Stiles doesn't let go of her hand. They slide into the back seat and for a moment all is silent.

Lydia's heart is set to burst from happiness but in the back of her mind is a darkness that she can't quite shake. (She had fallen during this fight, this long and lingering battle, and there were moments she had wished she would just die.) They hadn't all made it out alive, and she can still taste the scream on her tongue. Bitter, like blood.

The blood that ties them all together. The pack. Warriors, soldiers, leaders, victors. Bound together by secrets and loyalty and love and death. She thinks of each of the survivors in turn.

Scott, the compass-north, banners-waving, do-no-harm alpha with a heart of gold.

Allison, the fierce-hearted, fire-and-ice hunter with a noble path before her.

Isaac, the dark-past, bright-future werewolf who turned his life around.

Kira, the follow-your-heart, true-to-yourself thunder kitsune.

Stiles, the sidekick-turned-hero, friend-turned-lover.

And herself.

The banshee, the wailing woman who finally has a song in her heart to drown out the occasional screaming in her head.

Stiles turns to her now, plants a kiss on her forehead. "I love you so much," he murmurs.

"I know," and she leans her head against his shoulder, feeling the car pull away from the curb as Scott takes them all back.

Home.

Lydia Martin has her whole life ahead of her, and in every possible way, she's okay with that.

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**So. I'm about halfway through a new story, 'scarlet', which should be out by the end of the month, if I'm lucky. I hope some of you guys are interested in reading more of my work, so here's the deal. You give me something, I give you a preview of this new story. You can earn this by: reviewing most chapters; leaving a long-ish review on one chapter (preferably something nice); leaving a review with helpful constructive criticism (ie don't tell me to make my chapters longer). So if you do that, leave a note in your review saying that you'd like to read a little bit of my next story, and I'll PM you and we can go from there. This is not a bribe; this is a trade. So if you want to earn a snippet, leave me a review. Simple as that. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and I hope to see you in my future fics!**


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